


it's jj style

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Hypersexuality, Jjbek, M/M, Mania, Mental Disorder, bipolar JJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Otabek had to love him. He just had to.





	it's jj style

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/gifts).



> Phayte made this Tumblr request: _"Prompt -- Pain... extreme pain--- JJBek (take it from there)."_ Figured professional athletes power through physical pain, okay, and pain kinks kinda make me yawn. But emotional pain? Yeah, that's extreme.

He's had half a pot of coffee and he's sucking on the vape pen he stole from the gas station, and he's explaining it, the ideas. He's got so many ideas. He has to explain, because Otabek can't hear the music in his head, and words are going to have to work, instead. So he lets them all out as he dances in the bedroom. “And it's like dance is most honest art, you know? You can't hide any part of yourself. You're literally out there. No hiding.” That's why he's naked. Naked for Otabek, naked so he can _understand_. “No hiding.”

“Will you please put your shorts back on and go to bed?” He's mad. Of course he's mad. He's always mad at JJ because he pushes him too far. He doesn't mean to, but this is important. This is about dancing, about skating, about _artistry_ , and he wants Otabek to understand him. To tell him he's brilliant and talented and love him. Just love him.

If Otabek could love him, everything would be so cool.

“I’m serious, Jean. Go to sleep.”

“One or the other.” Jean turns. He puts his hands behind his head. He moves his hips from side to side and he laughs, because he knows what he looks like. Like he wants it to look like that.

“I really don't care, okay? Just let me sleep!”

No, he has to care. He has to care because he's an artist, just like JJ. He knows what it means to destroy himself over and over just to make something beautiful and be something beautiful - and, sweet Jesus! Otabek knows. Of course he knows! Isn't that why he came to Montreal? To train alongside _him?_ “Lemme sleep in your bed, Beks.”

“You've got your own.” No. He can't make him lay in bed alone. It's impossible. He can't. Otabek flinches when he touches his hair. “Leave me alone, Jean.”

He lays down next to him. Over the sheets Otabek is under, wishing he would turn around. “You get what I mean, right? About JJ Style? I'm not trying to be arrogant. I'm just trying to express my vision.”

When Otabek turns around, when he covers his mouth with his, JJ knows it's just to shut him up. So he has to do his best, he has to do everything he can, to make Otabek want more. It's everything to JJ, that it's about more. “You can fuck me,” he tells him, when he finally pulls back.

Otabek groans. “Don't, Jean.”

“No. I love you.” He knows he means it, too. It's like a wave that's pulled him under and he's going to die if Otabek doesn't understand. “I really do love you.”

JJ grabs his hands. Puts his hands on his body. He wants him to have his body. He’ll give it up, like Jesus. Otabek moans as JJ slides under the sheets. As JJ puts his dick in his mouth and sucks until he's hard.

Beks is his friend. His only friend, and he loves him so much.

“It's okay.” He comes back up, he holds his legs up by the backs of the knees and spreads them out. “I don't care if it hurts.” Not as long as Otabek loves him.

++

His first competition in Seniors felt like popping his cherry, and he did it with Otabek. Helsinki was cold, not like Montreal, but bitter, arctic. The snow felt like powdered sugar under his boots and the ice felt as hard as a diamond surface, barely giving under his skate during practice. Otabek didn't say a word as they glided past each other during practice. Even when JJ waved.

He expected that, and it was okay. Otabek would come around, like he always did. Good old Otabek. _Beks_. He’d _have_ to want to be close to JJ once he saw his new routines.

After all, he had JJ Style. He wasn't going to go out there packing his routine with jumps for points. He was going to give something real. Something to feel. Let the other skaters worry about technicalities, about points. He was going to be authentic. And Otabek was going to love it. He had to. If not, then he - _no_ \- he would. He would, because he understood because JJ explained it so many times to him. So many times and he even said - this really happened - “You're a brilliant great skater, Jean.”

Brilliant. As in genius. Because it was about ideas. About art. About being true to himself. And Otabek loved it. Loved him.

JJ hummed to his music as his body moved. Every turn was as important as a jump. Every hand gesture as important as footwork. Every breath, every movement, every feeling, every thing had to wrap itself around this moment and extend it into something pure and _real_ , so anyone watching could understand. And when Otabek saw what everyone was seeing, he'd smile. He'd talk to him. He'd be his friend again.

It had to work. It would work. He prayed so hard on this, and he knew - he absolutely understood - that he had to earn his friendship back. JJ wasn't going to be alone, anymore.

++

He lost himself for a minute there.

He’s torn up Otabek's costume. He's torn it to bits and he's got every right to hate him. And the crazy thing? The crazy thing is, he didn't even mean to do it. It just happened, like a scene on television, when JJ stormed into their bedroom and tore the damn thing up. “Is this what you want?” He keeps screaming it. “Is this what you want? Because this is me when I'm _really_ fucking with you!”

And he still isn't moving. Otabek's just watching, as if he always knew JJ would end up doing this. As if he could see straight through him and knew there was a rage inside of him, an animal living in his heart, and animal that JJ couldn't control no matter how bad he wanted to. He wanted to kill it. Kill himself. Die and make Otabek wish he never looked at him like this.

But he just stood there. Even when JJ threw a scrap at his face. Even when JJ pushed him. Even when he was thrown up against the wall. “You hate me?” Otabek turned his face away. But JJ grabbed his jaw. Made Otabek look him in the eye. “Say you hate me. I know you can't stand me. Just be honest.”

Of course he hates him. And why wouldn't he? JJ embarrassed Otabek on the rink, today. Told him something crazy, like _gonna give it to you raw_ , or something, then slapped Otabek's ass, maybe even squeezed it, right before JJ stepped out on the ice. He couldn't really remember everything, just that feeling that _pride_ , like he was on a cloud, and he was looking down at everything, and Jesus Christ, Himself, couldn't bring him down. But he did remember one thing. He really did point to Otabek. He pointed, right in front of the hockey players, and hollered: “You're _my_ bitch.” He'd pay for that. He is paying for that. Right now.

Otabek shouldn't look at him. He's disgusting. That's why he wouldn't talk to him while JJ drove him back in his father's green Impala. That's why he couldn't stand JJ’s face, JJ’s voice, JJ’s _Style_. He is arrogant. He is prideful. He is  _angry_ , angry because no one even wants to understand him, and it makes Otabek _sick_.

He made Otabek sick.

JJ sobs. “I didn't mean to do it!” He doesn't even know why he tore up the costume. All he knows is he doesn't matter. He's nothing. Less than nothing. And he needs to be something. If he's nothing then he can't even live. “Fuck me, Beks?”

“They were right.” Otabek closes his eyes. “You really are crazy.”

Hes dying. JJ slides to the floor as Otabek leaves the room. He's dying inside, and all he wants to do is keep dying. It would be the most honest thing he can do, right now. Just die and disappear completely.

++

“I hope pork is okay.” Maman had fussed about fixing pork chops for their special guest. He was from Kazakhstan. ( _They're Muslim, Alaine. We can't serve him pork, Alaine. Are you sure you have to have pork tonight, Alaine?_ ) “I can, I can make you a tuna fish salad if you like?”

But Otabek Altin was polite. He even bowed his head when they crossed themselves and said Grace. “No, please don't.” He forked a mouthful and swallowed before he said, “it's delicious.”

Maman smiled. “I'm just so grateful there's a skater who wants to train with our Jean-Jacques. He's had such a hard time, you know. He's misunderstood.” Maybe Otabek didn't listen to the rumors, and maybe he wouldn't know what she meant. He seemed like a nice guy, a cool guy in his leather jacket and everything. Yeah, he was probably above all that.

He didn't hear Alaine Jr sing-song _cray-cray_ or hear the twins laugh at that. At JJ.

“I'm excited to train with someone of his caliber.” He nodded at JJ. “You're a brilliant skater, Jean. It's a real honor.”

He felt his face burn and his head felt so light, like a balloon that was going to float away. And for once, JJ didn't know what to say. Otabek was the first person who didn't _have_ to say that to him, like Maman and Papa. And he was a _skater_ , too. Just like him. A skater, a skater who could understand him. He wanted to punch a hole in the sky.

“Thank the boy, son.”

His father was correct. He was always correct. JJ smiled. “Thanks, man.” He winked, just to show it was no big deal. “Gotta love that JJ Style. Am I right?”


End file.
